The Kindness of Time
by thegirlwhocan
Summary: Our poor Clara's final demise. After traveling with the Doctor, all things must end, but how will the impossible girl go? Their last run together across the stars. Includes character death, so tear alert! Whouffle moments - I didn't mean to ship them but how can you not? One shot. Un-canon I guess, enjoy!


'The Kindness of Time'

_Rescue me, Chin Boy, and show me the stars_

Ever since she was a little girl, Clara Oswald had looked up into the night sky and dreamt of it being touchable, of reaching the distant stars at her fingertips against the window. She would sit on the ledge for hours, feet tucked under the windowsill, and stare out at those stars, wondering what they were really like. She didn't know she'd actually get the chance one day, when a wonderful, _mad_ man knocked on the door to take her on an adventure. Clara had started running that day, and she didn't think she'd ever stop.

But eventually, all things end, even time. "Run!" the doctor appeared at Clara's elbow, grabbing it to turn her around and pull her along after him as he ran. Elbows became hands, and soon they were sprinting at some pace, hands locked together as their lungs burned, putting distance between them and whatever nightmare was chasing them that day. But Clara loved it. All her life, she had adored stories of any kind, about magic or monsters or daring adventures – she didn't know her life would become one. To have such an adventure, a life with meaning and danger: she thought the best of stories would come from it. She hoped she would be able to tell them one day, but it was not to be. Oh, someone would tell those stories, of burning gods; ghosts from space; the impossible girl who saved the doctor – but it would not be her. However right now, she did not know that, she knew only that they were running.

"This way," the doctor made a sharp left, pulling her behind him, before slamming the door shut behind them. She put her back against it while he locked it with the sonic, then grinned up at her. "What are we running from again?" she asked, forgetting what day of the week it was, let alone what was after them.

"They're called the tacito, an alien race" he explained.

"Why are they chasing us?"

"I might have just broken their big fancy machine" the doctor made one of his funny confused faces, so Clara hooked an eyebrow. "And why did we do that again?"

"Because it didn't look very friendly!" The doctor protested, looking offended, before he dropped his gaze, "and I pressed the wrong button."

"Of course you did" the girl sighed sarcastically.

"In all fairness, it was made to transmit sub-atomic particles across the globe, infecting every person on Earth and changing their thoughts"

"So it's a good thing you broke it then?"Clara asked.

"Yeah" the doctor confirmed, as something threw itself against the door behind Clara's back, almost breaking it open.

"Running again?" she asked.

"Definitely" he grinned like a child in a sweetshop, grabbing her hand once more. He waited for the grin to catch upon her face too before they took off. It didn't matter how far they went, or where they had came from: there would always be somewhere else to run.

The TARDIS appeared around a corner, blue and inviting, so the pair quickly disappeared inside, safe from harm there. If there was ever a place Clara had felt at home, it was inside that magical ship. Flashing lights and silver gadgets beckoned from inside, waiting to be pushed or turned to escape, but it wasn't that simple this time. The doctor began racing around the console, picking up random scraps of metal, buttons, wiring – Clara was sure she even saw an umbrella somewhere in there, to assemble some sort of machine. "What are you doing?" the girl followed the man around the edge of the console, watching him building.

"Making a thing"

"A _thing_?"

"Yes, a thing – respect the thing!" he turned to point a finger at her as he spoke, and she smiled ruefully, shaking her head slightly at his antics. She didn't think she'd ever get used to it. "Ah, I see, obviously something technically genius and possibly dangerous" she teased.

"Yes" the doctor answered, not meeting her eye by fiddling with the gadget he had produced, but she didn't like his tone. It was dark, listless – which was never anything good when it came to this mad old man. "Doctor?" she prompted, and he looked up at her, eyes dark.

"I'm sorry" he said quietly.

"What for?"

"The tacito won't give up easily, but I have to give them a chance still. This is a bomb," he held up the gadget in his hands to show her, "more powerful than any your planet has ever seen. Their ship outside is far away enough from Earth that the planet won't be hurt by the blast, they won't even notice the change – but I can't just set it off" he explained, rubbing tired eyes with his hand as he did.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes glimmering with tears threatening to fall.

"I have to give them a choice to surrender, but if they won't . . ." he trailed off.

"What? You detonate it? You'll be killed!" Clara protested, grabbing his arm.

"I have to," he said, looking directly at her now, and to her surprise, there were tears in his eyes too, "but the TARDIS is programmed to take you away, back home, once I've left her. You'll be okay"

"I won't be if you're gone" a single tear slid down her face.

"Oh Clara," he pulled her forwards, kissing her forehead softly as he hugged her small frame, "I'm so sorry."

"No," she said, pushing away and taking a few steps backwards, "I won't let you, I can't."

"We've got no choice; they'll destroy everything if we don't. Clara, please" he came forwards, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked at her feet, refusing to face him so he sighed. "I'm sorry" he breathed again, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly as he prepared to leave the TARDIS. Once he was behind her, she turned quietly, picking up a discarded wrench from the console. Clara took a deep breath, taking three silent steps to reach him before he got to the doors – then brought the metal tool down on his head. Before he had time to say 'ow', the doctor fell to the floor, lying face up on the grey surface. The girl, wrench held loosely in her hand, make a half wincing uncertain face, before dropping the tool. "Sorry" she breathed, but whether it was for the injury or what she was about to do, she was not sure. Dropping to her knees beside him, she picked up the strange device he'd made, twisting it round in her hands to study it. Thinking she'd found the trigger button, she got quickly to her feet, walking to the far corner where the doctor stowed his bright orange space suit. Clara was alright with technology herself, so knew enough to dissemble the communicator from the rest of the suit. Carrying it in her hand alongside the bomb, she set her face, determined not to cry, and began her journey out of the TARDIS.

She made it to the doctor, just in front of the doors, before she stopped. Kneeling again, she placed the items on the floor while she reached out to push the hair from his sleeping face. He looked peaceful, the tension completely gone from his features, and she forced a watery smile. "Don't blame yourself" she said slowly, although she had no clue if he could hear her, "You keep running, Clever Boy." Stroking the hair gently from his face again, her hands and eyes lingered on his face for a moment, before she pushed herself to her feet, gathering the equipment, leaving the box. The door clicked shut behind her, but she didn't look back until it had blocked her view of the odd stranger, the magician, the mad man; the one she would miss the most. Turning, she placed a trembling hand on the blue wooden box. "Take care of him for me" she whispered to the machine, knowing it heard her, with a flicker of a smile on her face. It was her thanks for the adventure.

The Tacito's ship was 'parked' in a nebula, deep within space. The creatures had seen the Earth, the life and beauty of it – and wanted to enslave it. The most common reaction to true beauty was so often hate. It had a mainly white interior, clinically clean and bright. She walked away from the blue box, hearing the engines whir into life behind her. A gust of wind a few seconds later told her it was gone; she was alone. Clara came to a halt with the reality of it, the end of the line. She took a deep breath, but it did not fill her lungs, they felt hollow. But she knew she had to keep walking. To save the doctor again, like she had done many times before. Clara Oswin Oswald had lived a thousand lives, in a thousand times; saw the turn of the universe through the doctor's eyes. She had saved him when he thought there was no one left to, and she did it, all of it, for him. Not for destiny, or fate, but because she could not bear to lose her mad man, who had saved her in return. This time was no different: this was her choice.

"This is a bomb!" she shouted, upon entering the main deck of the ship, causing the aliens to scatter in her presence, to give her room to walk forwards. Standing in the middle of the ship's bridge, she faced them, unafraid. "I'm here to give you a chance, because if there's anything the doctor has taught me, it's that there is goodness if you look for it. So, this is your chance to leave, in peace." A silence hung in the air, as her finger hovered over the trigger, she hoped they would take it, but was doubtful. Unfortunately, her doubts were confirmed when their leader laughed, a high, cruel sound. "Foolish girl – you'll kill yourself too. We will not stand down" he jeered, raising a primitive staff and shaking it.

"I'm warning you, I'll do it!" she yelled, holding the bomb up.

They met her eyes, staring her down, "then do it. We have never lost a battle, and will not surrender now." Clara held their gaze; she'd given them the chance, like the doctor said. She wished it didn't have to end this way. Twisting, she quickly ran through a doorway nearby, locking it behind her. For the last time, she ran. But this time it was not with the doctor. Reaching the end of the ship, she found herself to be in a vast white room, apart from the far wall in front of her. That wall was made of glass, and beyond it were the stars.

Clara would do this, and willingly, to save the doctor, but she did not want the last thing she saw to be those dreadful creatures made of hate. She locked the door behind her, twisting her belt around the handles to secure it. The creature's pursued, but they weren't getting inside any time soon. Fear started to set in now, but when Clara walked over to the wall and saw all of the stars outside, bursting and blinking light, she was no longer scared. Holding a fingertip up to the glass, she traced the outline of the stars with her fingers, like she did when she was a child. With the other hand, she clicked the communicator. "Doctor?" she asked, unsure if he would be awake by now. If he was, the communicator was linked with the TARDIS, and he would hear her. "Clara" his voice came back from the device in her hand, and her face creased in a sigh. "What are you doing? Clara, you can't do this" he was running frantically around the console, trying to reverse the protocol he had put into place. He was on Earth, stuck, while she was up there. She heard this. "Doctor, stop. Don't you come up here, don't you dare - it's too late" she said quietly, but refused to let her fear show in her voice, being strong for him even now.

"It's never too late; it's not your job to do this" he yelled, angry and scared.

"It's my job to save you," she half-laughed, hearing the banging on the door behind her but looking only at the stars ahead, "always will be."

"Clara please, I don't want this" he begged, stopping still now with sorrow plastered across his face. He was old, perhaps it was his time, but it was not hers. He had to save her. "But it's what _I _want" she answered, tears finally falling, "I want you safe, saving people – _running_." Clara laughed through her tears, and a ghost of a smile even lit up the doctor's face. "I always wanted to see the stars, and I have" she continued softly, "I'm looking at them right now – they're so beautiful. To live among them for all this time, it was my dream."

"Clara" the doctor could find no more words, and set to work on moving his box again, desperate.

"Thank you" she said strongly, stars closer to her fingertips than when she was little, touchable, "You saved me."

"Let me do it again, one last time. You're my impossible girl, Clara, don't do this."

She shook her head, the lights blurry, "I'm saving you this time; because you showed me the stars." She took a deep breath, knowing it was time. She was brave. In the end, she was so brave. "I want you to keep doing that, to keep showing people these amazing, extraordinary things - keep saving them."

"-Clara" he breathed a final time.

"Run you clever boy, and remember me" Clara Oswald placed her finger on the trigger, and saw only stars, "My doctor."

She pressed the button.

The Doctor screamed. He cursed and shouted and cried until his throat was raw, and his heart empty. Then he collapsed against the console, sinking to the ground and staying there for days. He heard the explosion; he knew she was gone. After all this time, everything they'd been through, all the highs and lows and infinite lifetimes together, from the very beginning – she was just gone. For good, this time. The doctor had wanted to go back and save her, but to do that, considering she had been scattered in his own timeline so many times, would rip a whole in the fabric of reality. It would literally end creation from ever having happened, leaving behind only blackness and dead space, like what he felt inside his chest at that moment. He considered it, for an insane moment, thinking it would be worth it to see her face a final time. Of course he would never do that, he could never destroy so much, and he would die himself. That would make her sacrifice worthless, being the greatest insult to her memory. _And what memories they shared . . . _

He sank into them, drinking in every moment they had shared together, a despair that lasted so long he thought he would drown in it. For months he was unheard of, so his friends worried for his safety and sanity. But the world kept turning, so he must carry on. Eventually, through tears and time, the doctor slowly came back to life. He did what she asked, save people: he would do anything for his impossible girl, including live. Racing across the stars; running away again; not feeling a thing. To lose someone in that way, to not be able to save them: it broke him. A shattered man, he ran.

But that, I suppose, is the kindness of time. That it goes on, and with it comes change. It was many years later, upon standing on Earth and looking up at the night's sky, that the doctor made a heartbreaking discovery. When the ship had blown up, it created just enough movement in the dust cloud inside the nebula to create a new star. He looked up one day, hundreds of years later after it had fully formed, and saw it looked down upon him. It was her; her star, entirely new and beautiful. He named it after her. What else could he do? Even after all that time, Clara still held a place in his hearts, at their beating centre.

The Doctor was lonely, but he was never alone again. In the darkest of nights, she was his light; his beacon home and his north star. All he need do was look up and find her, so he was never truly alone again. She watched over him then, as she always did. The doctor, an old, lost man by then, found hope once more. Clara Oswald, who had saved him in every way imaginable, had done so again. It was true that miracles never ceased to exist. So the girl who dreamt of the stars, travelled in them, became one. She was infinite and shining and extraordinary: the girl he knew, and loved, immortalised in constellations stories were written about.

He still visited her, many hundreds of years later, when things had ended and the sky was changed, new galaxies formed and suns burned. Until the very end, she was there, the last star to go out. Sometimes, on nights that did not seem to end, he would fly the TARDIS to the heart of that nebula, as close to her star as he could get. If someone was travelling with him, they would ask what he was doing, and what the meaning of the faraway look in his eyes was. He would reply, with a sadness and love shining in his tearful gaze, as the memories of his impossible girl flashed through his mind, her face faced seared there, that he was visiting a very old, very good, friend: the brightest star in the universe.


End file.
